Park’s Bats Are Out on a Limb

NOVATO, Calif. -- For more than 10 years, Patricia Winters visited what was believed to be one of the largest maternal bat colonies in the state in the attic of the visitors’ center here at Olompali State Historic Park.

But the colony of 325 pallid bats was evicted last fall when the dilapidated building was remodeled. And Winters, a bat conservationist, is heartbroken.

Although officials with the California Department of Parks and Recreation plan to place three bat houses at the park for the displaced bats, Winters is not appeased.

“I feel a responsibility for what’s happening to them,” said Winters, 63, who heads the California Bat Conservation Fund, a nonprofit group that educates the public about bats. “I feel a connection with this colony.”

State parks officials originally planned to let the pallid bats, as well as two other species, return to the attic to live in special modules, once the 1870s-era house was renovated as an expanded visitors center and offices.

The parks consultant, Greg Tartarian of Wildlife Research Associates of Petaluma, suggested that the bats be incorporated into an education program. He envisioned placing infrared video cameras in the roosting area and a TV monitor in the visitors center so the public could watch the mother and baby bats interact.

But after park officials completed their environmental review of the project -- pallid bats are designated by the state as a “species of special concern” -- they had a change of heart about allowing the animals to return to their decades-old home. Park officials were worried about possible health effects for the public and staff.

“The risk wasn’t one that we wanted to take,” said Bill Orme, senior state park resource ecologist in Sacramento.

The state’s supplemental environmental analysis cited two diseases linked to bat guano, as well as rabies, which can be contracted through bites or from the saliva of infected animals.

But Richard Davies, a senior public health biologist with the California Department of Health Services in Ventura, said in a written response to the state that discussion of the diseases had been “potentially misleading” because they either have not occurred in the state or have not been reported here.

Orme conceded that any threat posed by the diseases -- histoplasmosis and cryptococcosis -- is “probably insignificant in California,” but said that rabies in humans, though rare, is transmitted in a majority of cases by infected bats.

Orme said he hopes that the three bat houses, one of which is to be placed on the roof of the old house, will lure the bats back. The 4-by-6-foot bat house to go on the roof has already been installed temporarily about 16 feet in the air, attached to two poles. So far no bats have tried it out, judging by the lack of guano at its base.

A second bat house will be placed up the hill nearby. Park officials are still deciding where to locate the third one. They plan to have all three bat houses in place by mid-August, in time for the next maternity season, which begins in February.

Moving the bat house onto the old building is “a good thing,” said Tartarian, the consultant who built the structure with a brown shingle roof. “That house will stand some chance of getting good activity.”

Park officials have committed to monitoring use of the bat houses for three years and to making any changes that are necessary to make them more attractive to bats. As part of the monitoring process, which the state originally planned to do for five years, an expert will collect information on temperatures in the houses, since that helps determine how the bats thrive.

“I think what they’re proposing mitigates the impact from the re-roofing,” said Eric Tattersall, an environmental scientist with the California Department of Fish and Game in Yountville. “I think it’s going to turn out OK.”

This isn’t the first time the bat issue has come up in state park buildings, and isn’t expected to be the last, especially since two bond issues earmarking $5.3 billion for renovations have passed in recent years.

To deal with the issue, a panel of experts has been convened to develop a bat policy for state parks, Orme said, adding that the policy is expected to be completed within a year.

Winters, meanwhile, said she is seeking an attorney to challenge the state parks department’s removal of bats from buildings they have inhabited for years.

“We have to stop this at other parks,” said Winters, who co-founded the California Bat Conservation Fund. “They’re doing it at Jack London State Park,” in Glen Ellen.

She said she hoped to obtain a reversal of the Olompali decision.

Work with a smaller colony of displaced bats at the cottage that Jack London shared with his wife will take place at Jack London State Park. The bats will be banded so they can be tracked. The bat mitigation work at both parks will cost $40,000, Orme said.

Winters is not alone in her concern about the bats’ eviction.

“It’s really regrettable,” said Diane Allevato, executive director of the Marin Humane Society. “I find it hard to believe that there’s not expertise available that couldn’t come up with a different option. There is enormous interest in bats.”

Winters, who has placed five orphan bats in the colony over the years, had even volunteered to clean up the guano from the bat houses that were to go in the attic.

Interest in bats has been keen, judging by attendance at annual one-night programs at Olompali put on by Winters, which drew as many as 500 people. Winters displayed her own bats, gave a slide show and then watched with the crowd as the park’s bats flew from their roosts and hunted insects.

Winters said the bats are impressive.

“They have very large, 14-inch wingspans. They’re a blondish color -- they’re the color of the ground they hunt on,” Winters said. “They have enormous ears and large eyes, and they have a very slow, deep, measured wing beat. They pour out in groups. They’re curious. They like to fly over people. They’re unafraid of humans.”

Olompali, which became a state park in 1977, has a colorful past. The 700-acre park originally was a major Coast Miwok Indian village and the site of the Bear Flag Revolt. It also was used for ranching, a religious retreat and a commune.